Mourned Innocence
by Aina Song
Summary: Unto the pure of heart are all things pure...
1. Traders' Tents

**Title:** Mourned Innocence

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Fable: The Lost Chapters

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Mild Language; Direct Quotes; Altered Scenes

**Pairing(s):** Hero x OC

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Teaser:** Unto the pure of heart are all things pure…

**Chapter One - Traders' Tents**

Somewhere in Darkwood, just within the neutral territory of traders, a terrified young man struggled against the ropes that bound his wrists and legs, feeling them bite painfully into his skin. He was sitting very uncomfortably on the ground, his back leaning against a tree, and wishing for sleep to claim him that he might temporarily escape the nightmare of reality. His captors, nameless bandits, were all enjoying mugs of beer and ale at one of the traders' tables, laughing and talking quite boldly of what was planned for him.

He had been their captive for little more than a week. Stolen from his bed, his family slain before his eyes as their home was burned to the ground, he had abruptly become all alone in the world. The bandits had spared his life, and fed him just enough to keep him that way. They had tied him, gagged him, and taken him across the lands.

His captors had rested within the traders' camp for nearly two days, in no hurry now that they were so close to their destination. He had long given up hope that one of the traders might try to break his ropes when his captors were not looking. Traders were notorious for remaining uninvolved in anything that could endanger their profits or their lives. Their camp marked the center of Darkwood, just outside of Darkwood Lake and the forest beyond. A strategic location for good trade, for it was well known for much travel.

He lifted his head at the sound of approaching footsteps, half expecting to be teased with another scrap of food until he was left nearly begging for it like the last time. Instead, his dark green eyes widened in great surprise.

A white-haired Hero in his mid-twenties silently knelt at his side. He was not a giant of a man, as the songs had said of him, but was lean and gracefully muscled. His robes were cut of a thick, warm cloth - probably spelled for his protection - with a folded cloak which draped over his shoulders and could likely double as a hood when needed. Bright blue bands of metal dangled from the wrists of his gloves and the ankles of his boots. Upon his back was slung an intricately carved crossbow which some ancient books had dubbed _Arken's_.

No Hero but one carried such a mythical weapon.

"Hey!"

The young captive flinched, turning his head to find the small number of bandits leaving the camp area and crossing the barren but damp clearing. He pressed his back closer against the tree behind him, suddenly remembering his fear and not wanting it realized. The Hero at his side ignored the bandits for another moment, his bright blue eyes quietly burning into those of the frightened youth and projecting a feeling of calm before he stood and turned around.

The number of bandits, led by a masked assassin, all moved to surround the Hero, each drawing their own weapons. "I don't know who you're pretending to be, Hero," their leader spoke again. "But there's a bounty on that boy's head, and I'll not let your stupidity come between us and our reward."

Their captive paused, not believing his ears. Did they really not know that it was Paladin himself standing before them?

But the Hero said nothing, not even reaching for his crossbow as the bandits began closing in on him. Yet just as the ring of bandits drew within a few feet of him, the Hero threw both hands up toward the darkened skies. And then the bound youth stared as Paladin silently called upon a powerful white magic which etched a runic circle into the ground before strong pillars of light struck down those who would attack him.**(1)** In a handful of seconds only, every bandit and their assassin leader lay dead upon the ground.

Paladin turned and knelt again before the captive he had rescued. His bright blue eyes took in the many cuts and bruises littering the youth's body, a look of much sympathy passing over the Hero's softly chiseled face. He lifted his hands, hovering them over the captive's chest, and he closed his eyes. A soft blue glow poured from his gloved palms, gently blanketing the youth's entire body before harmlessly fading away and taking the hurtful evidence with it.**(2)**

The young captive took a slow, deep breath through his nostrils, finding that even his fractured ribs had been healed by the Hero's powerful Will. Paladin next drew a small knife, carefully cutting the ropes away before tucking the thing again within the leg of his soft leather boot. He then stood and backed away.

The other youth clambered to his feet, reaching behind his head to untie the gag from around his mouth. "Thank you," he gasped, tossing the thing aside. "I owe you my life."

The Hero shook his head, declining any supposed debt. He glanced toward the bandits he had slain, a contemplative look passing over his face as he stepped forth and gently set a hand to the other's shoulder. The freed captive stared, confused and mildly curious, as Paladin brought his other hand to his own chest and then slowly stretched his arm between them to rest his palm against the other's chest.

Warmth flushing his cheeks, the other shook his head. "I don't understand."

Bright blue eyes imploring, Paladin patiently made the gesture once more. Touch to his own chest, touch to the other's.

The captive's dark green eyes widened, as at last he realized something never sung about in all the songs about this Hero. "My name is Houle," he finally answered. "Houle Cheshire."

Paladin nodded, dropping his hand from the other's shoulder to motion toward the bodies of the bandits he had slain.

This time it was fairly simple to guess at the Hero's question. "They came to Oakvale one night, burning my home and slaughtering my family before they took me away. He," - here, he pointed to the assassin - "made a deal with the owner of the Darkwood Bordello. I was to be its new novelty."

The Hero shot him a swift glance of horrific disbelief. But for Houle, who would have had to suffer the ordeal, it was not so difficult to understand. Homosexuality was no longer so scarce throughout Albion; it would follow that someone as sinister as the Bordello's current owner would find a way to profit from it. Houle had overheard his captors speak of how long they had had to search to find someone so uncommon as to be near untouchable. And he, with his rare green eyes, dark coppery hair and caramel skin, was apparently an ideal pick.

Paladin stood quite still for several moments, a contemplative look again filling those eyes of his, until at last he turned to Houle once more. His hand motioned to the other youth, and then pointed toward the boundary of the Darkwood forest. Houle had to think for a second to understand this one. "You want to take me back to Oakvale?"

The legendary Hero nodded.

He bit at his lower lip, but then reluctantly shook his head. "I can't. When they took me, they destroyed everything I knew and cared for. I have nothing there to return to."

Paladin seemed to think about this for a moment. At last he swung his arm round to point toward the other half of Darkwood instead, which would give into the territory of the Greatwood forest.

Houle cocked his head in curiosity. "Is that where you're headed?"

Another nod.

"And you want me to come with you?"

Nod, again.

This gave the copper-haired youth pause. With no life to return to, and nowhere to go, very little choice was left to him. Paladin's offer, it seemed, was to let Houle join in his travels until they could find him somewhere to start anew. But a sudden thought invaded Houle's mind, and he had to voice it. "What about the Bordello?"

Paladin's questioning expression spoke volumes, now that Houle was becoming swiftly practiced in reading the Hero's silences. So Houle tried to explain, pointing again to his dead captors' assassin leader to show whom he meant. "He loved to talk of what their contract would have entailed for me. From the sound of it, the owner of that place is not very kindly toward the… women who work for him. I only came this close to experiencing his cruelty, myself. And those women… There must be a way to put a stop to him, to ruin him somehow."

There was a long moment of stillness between them. But then a small smile of gentle approval painted across the legendary Hero's finely-lipped mouth. Turning, he motioned for Houle to follow into the traders' camp. Houle was silently bade to sit at a table across from a gamer, eating a thick leg of meat that the Hero had bought for him, while Paladin himself bartered with a couple of traders. Houle would have thought it interesting to discover how one who did not speak would be able to accomplish this, but his empty stomach argued that it was far too hungry to wait any longer. So he devoted his full attention to his simple meal. He apparently made such a pitiful sight, that the gamer across from him bought him a mug of cider to wash it down, chuckling when Houle tried to swallow around a mouthful to thank him.

After he had done, Houle looked up to find that his rescuer had returned to the table. The white-haired Hero had placed a small bundle of new clothing upon the table near Houle's plate. Paladin pointed to the bundle, and then motioned to Houle, indicating that they had been purchased to replace the torn and tattered clothes the other youth still wore. Houle stared a moment, taken aback by the man's generosity. Slowly he pushed his plate away and pulled the bundle toward him. He glanced up to find the Hero awaiting his response, perhaps even thinking the gesture might be refused. Warmth flushed his throat and face, and he swallowed. "Where might I change into these?"

A smile brightened Paladin's face, and he led Houle to a tiny clearing behind one of the traders' tents.

1) Divine Fury.

2) Heal Life.


	2. Heroes' Guild

**Title:** Mourned Innocence

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Fable: The Lost Chapters

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Mild Language; Direct Quotes; Altered Scenes

**Pairing(s):** Hero x OC

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Teaser:** Unto the pure of heart are all things pure…

**Chapter Two - Heroes' Guild**

Some minutes later, Houle hesitantly returned to the camp, now garbed in his new clothes. They were virtuous leathers, some of the most basic and most affordable armour widely available. Their colors were grey and blue, and were not overly heavy on his travel-exhausted frame. Two straps crossed over his chest, one hefting two small pouches, and another larger pouch now hung from his left hip. Shiny bronze sheets of metal guarded his shoulders and the ankles of his boots, while blue metal guarded the knuckles of his gloves. Pale brown leather was fastened in such a manner as to protect his back against fiendish surprise attacks, and a grey scarved collar was wrapped loosely about the base of his throat to proof against cold weather.

As he approached his new companion, Houle showed him the two small knives which came with his attire, both with toughened leather sheaths. "I, um… I-I'm not very comfortable with carrying weapons."

The nearest trader stared at him, "Those bandits treat you like shit, and you still don't see the advantage a weapon might bring you?"

Houle tossed a quick glare at the man. If they had truly been so concerned about him, they would have forgotten the danger to their profit and tried to do something about it.

But a look of understanding flooded Paladin's bright blue eyes, and the white-haired Hero stepped closer. With one hand, he touched Houle's chest, then his own, a reverse of what he had done earlier. His other hand he slowly reached over his shoulder to lightly touch the grip of his crossbow. He would do the fighting for the both of them.

The copper-haired youth flushed again, glancing shyly away. "Thank you…"

A moment passed, and he felt the knives being gently pried from his hands. He looked up in time to watch Paladin try to communicate once more. The Hero held one hand to his chest, shook his head, and then made as though to offer Houle's knives back to him. The motions could have been translated into so many different things, but Houle was finding it much simpler to define them when adding whatever expression filled those bright blue eyes.

This one was a quiet plea to hold on to the very weapons Houle had tried to refuse. Just in case Paladin was unable to protect him. Just in case Houle found himself needing an edge to ensure a swift escape.

The songs that had been sung about him depicted this legendary Hero as invincible, undefeatable… sometimes almost immortal. But the man in reality was still modest and truthful enough to remember that all things born must one day die.

So, seeing the logic of his companion's request, Houle nodded his permission to help him strap the knives onto his person. Paladin knotted one upon the outside of Houle's right bicep, then handed the other over while motioning its most strategic hiding place. Houle felt his face grow warm yet again as he bent down to tie the thing securely to the outside of his right thigh, where it could be concealed by the leather flaps of his chest piece.

His new friend nodded approvingly, leading the way out of the camp. Pausing just before the edge of the damp clearing, he brought _Arken's_ over his shoulder and motioned for Houle to stay close behind. Houle very briefly wondered about the bolts with which his guide would arm the crossbow. Paladin did not seem to carry any. But, if there were any truths to the songs about him, such a legendary Hero and masterful Will user would undoubtedly not have need of them. Perhaps the crossbow itself was armed with magic.

Houle followed into the dark forest, pausing every handful of steps when Paladin did. The Hero, likely accustomed to safeguarding civilians during travel, was very careful to scan the trees around them for any signs of an ambush. There were a number of Hobbes toward the end of the path; Houle could see the glow from some of their sorcerers' staffs. But the way seemed clear until then.

Paladin paused again, glancing questioningly over his shoulder.

"Oh," Houle whispered, quickly pointing to their right. "The assassin said that the door to the Bordello's clearing is over there."

Nodding, the Hero started off in that direction. They held their cautionary pace until they neared a fork in the unpaved path.

Just as the wood of the door itself came within view, Paladin halted and turned his head to the left. Hidden behind a thick tree, there awaited a blue treasure chest, with the number **15** carved into its lid. Houle stared, having heard of these particular treasures but never having seen one before now. They were not forged by man, but were born of Will itself. Treasures untold and rare were kept within, but a blue chest only revealed itself for so long before hiding itself from mortal view again to await another moment it might feel inclined to appear once more.

His guide reached into a fold of his robes, bringing out a small ring of keys, every one of them silver. The Hero knelt before the chest, patiently inserting one at a time into the number of small locks which lined its lid. Houle was amazed to learn that his companion still had four keys left over. Once each lock held a key, they each snapped open and fell to the ground, dissolving into nothing and leaving the fifteen silver keys behind. Paladin took up each and replaced them to their ring, tucking them away within a fold of his robes before shifting forth to prise the lid open. He reached his free hand in and brought out his reward.

Houle's dark green eyes widened. That was no Will potion. The glass phial was too intricately molded, and bore the widely understood symbol of a practiced master. A Will Master's elixir, then.**(3)** Exceedingly rare, and most fitting for one of the much coveted blue treasure chests.

Paladin lifted the phial until he held it at eye-level, and in the next instant his palm gave off a faint blue glow. The spell embraced the phial before slowly fading, and Houle saw that the elixir was still there. So it _was_ consumed like any other potion, and not absorbed like the songs would try to lead one to believe. But Paladin did not remove the bespelled cork to do so, instead tucking it away into a large white pouch hidden by the folds of his robes.

Houle could not contain his curiosity at the Hero's actions. "Why did you not drink it?" He wondered, "Why the spell?"

His companion spared him a bemused little glance, and Houle swiftly realized the ridiculousness of his own questions.

If the songs and stories held any truth at all - which Houle was beginning to doubt more and more - this favored servant of Avo would not need an elixir's power to add to his own Will. More appropriate to his character, he must have planned to save it for another who would need of it. The spell, then, must have been to protect the glass phial**(4)** so that it would remain intact during his travels until such a moment availed itself to him.

Houle had once prided himself on his quick mind. Perhaps his ordeal with the bandits had not endangered its logic, after all.

Taking up the _Arken's_ once more, Paladin motioned Houle behind him and they approached the Bordello door. Cautiously, the Hero pushed his shoulder against the wood of the door, slowly urging it open. Together, they entered the lush grass clearing of the Bordello, and Houle helped him to pull the heavy door closed.

"Greetings, gentlemen."

Both turned, and Houle felt his mouth fall slack at the sight before him. The woman was in her late forties and seemed to have gained some weight in her years. Her dress was perhaps once cut to entice, but now showed bits of skin better left hidden, to put it kindly. Her red hair was piled atop her head, she wore far too much makeup, and gold hoop earrings hung from her lobes.

Behind her, there was a small manor. Its entrance was guarded by a single soldier overlooking the small number of… customers, that entered or hung around in the nearby courtyard to await their turns. Houle's face grew warm as he saw the picture sign that hung over the door, and he nearly swore that flush of warmth grew into an embarrassed fever when he glimpsed one of the women passing behind the open doorway. He swallowed uncomfortably, burying his face into the back of his companion's shoulder.

"Welcome to our Bordello," the older woman who had greeted them continued. "I am sorry, Hero, but wielding weapons here is forbidden." She waited patiently until Paladin tucked his crossbow behind him, then added, "My name is Madam Minzche. We have a wide selection, so do not worry if you find your tastes to vary-"

"No," Houle moaned into the back of his guide's robes.

"I'm sorry, young sir?"

He felt the Hero chuckle silently, and he looked up to find Paladin glancing back at him with a smile of understanding toward his discomfort. Trying to calm himself, Houle moved slightly out from behind his new friend and looked to the Madam. "Are you the owner?"

"Oh no, dear. That would be old Grope." She shook her head, adding nearly under her breath, "That sleazy, lay-about, good-for-nothing…"

"Madam," Houle began to explain. "Your employer had a contract with a band of bandits led by an assassin, did he not?"

Her brown eyes grew very round, then. "Yes, but how did you-" Her breath loudly caught in her throat, as she finally took in his unusual appearance. "Oh, my dear boy! Not you?"

"I'm afraid so," he nodded.

"You poor dear!"

He waved off her apologies before they could begin. "This Hero rescued me, and I realized that if the rumors were true, then your women have it just as bad as I would have gotten. Madam… He's agreed to my proposal to put a stop to this man Grope for good."

Her gaze swung to Paladin, who nodded but as always said nothing. Hope, a seemingly long-forgotten emotion, graced her features and almost revitalized her faded beauty. "I do wish to see something better for my girls…"

"Perhaps you could help us to discover a way to accomplish this," Houle suggested.

The woman did not even have to think about it. "He's hidden the deeds. If you get ahold of them, he'll have to forfeit ownership."

"Any ideas?"

"Oh, I've tried so many times to get my hands on it, myself." She sighed, shaking her head. "The closest I've come was by getting him so drunk he would pass out. When in a drunken stupor, I've learned he talks in his sleep. But I've yet to get him to confess the hiding place."

Paladin seemed to have heard all that he needed. Motioning for Houle and the Madam to wait for him where they stood, he calmly walked off toward the small manor. Houle nervously watched him enter the building through its open doorway, unable to decide whether he should follow anyway or simply trust his new companion enough to stay put.

The Madam must have sensed his unease, gently placing a hand to his shoulder when they both glimpsed the Hero offering an older man a mug of beer. Women, customers, and even a barmaid passed behind the doorway frequently, and so it was difficult to see much from across the clearing. But Houle guessed it to have taken a total of six beers to get the man to feel a need to lie down. Grope and the Hero disappeared from sight of the doorway.

The sun glided slowly across the sky, telling of two hours' time while Houle and the Madam nervously awaited the results. Suddenly a bright blue glow emitted from within one of the upstairs windows, and the Madam exclaimed in query as to the cause.

"He's a Will user," Houle distractedly answered, his dark green eyes never leaving that window. "He must be casting a spell to get that Grope fellow to say what he needs to know."**(5)**

Long minutes later, they glimpsed the Hero passing behind the doorway once more, before coming again out from the manor with a spade in his hands. He walked purposely toward them, turning toward a secondary courtyard to his right which surrounded a small pond. He paused before the base of a statue, swiftly plunging the spade into the ground. It was not long before he unearthed a small wooden case and handed it over to the Madam.

She opened the case, and her eyes lit up. "The deeds!" She looked up to stare at the Hero, "And you're giving them to me?"

Paladin nodded, tossing the spade aside, and Houle added, "You would know better than either of us which kind of life the women here would much prefer."

"Yes, dear," she quietly agreed. "I would. Firstly, I shall have to throw that old Grope out of here, and I'll tell all of my girls that they'll never have to do this kind of work again. Then… Perhaps, I'll turn the house into a refuge for fallen women."

Houle smiled, finally glimpsing some dignity in the woman. "I hope you succeed, Madam Minzche."

"Thank you, dear. And you, sir," she added, turning again to Paladin. "You are a true Hero." She turned away then, clutching the case to her bosom as she walked confidently up toward the manor.

Houle made to follow Paladin back into Darkwood forest, but it seemed his body suddenly remembered the trauma it had gone through before his rescue, choosing now to declare its exhaustion. He lost his footing, a soft sound of surprise escaping his lips as he fell first to one knee and then to the other. He glared at the grass beneath him, loathing this display of his weakness. Yet when he looked up, Paladin's eyes did not hold the pity he had feared to find there. Instead, the white-haired Hero patiently offered his hand and helped Houle to regain his feet. His gaze was tinted with some expected sympathy, but not pity, as he drew the caramel-skinned youth close to stretch Houle's arm across his shoulders.

Houle's body might have been exhausted, but his mind was still vaguely alert. He could see the flaw in his friend's kindness. Paladin would have much difficulty protecting Houle or himself, if they tried to travel like this. But it seemed the Hero had already taken this into consideration. With his free hand he reached up under the cloak draped over his robes, and Houle glimpsed a bronze circular plate bearing a most unique symbol.

A Guild seal.

Perhaps one of the few things every Hero - evil or benign - still had in common.

That soft blue glow which seemed the signature of Paladin's brand of magic returned, coming up from the ground to embrace the both of them. Houle grew faintly unsure. He had never teleported before, nor been teleported, and did not know how it would feel to do so. But before he could voice his concern, the glow of his friend's magic had already cocooned their bodies and was steadily growing brighter. In an abrupt moment of ungrounded panic, Houle squeezed his eyes shut.

A moment later, he could feel Paladin shaking with silent mirth as the Hero gently nudged him in the side. Houle opened his eyes, and he stared. The teleporting had felt like nothing at all, and they were now standing in the midst of a grand room. A low table skillfully painted over with a map of Albion took up the center of the floor, and there were a couple of small cards placed over certain areas of the map. A large door stood to one side of the table, possibly the exit, while to the other side three carpets led off to separate destinations.

It did not take Houle long at all to realize that they were standing within the much whispered-about halls of the Heroes' Guild.

3) I know this particular blue chest did not have an elixir, but I needed to give the Hero a weapon, and I didn't want him "beefed up" in order to carry that _Harbinger_ sword found at the Temple of Avo, so… There you go.

4) Physical Shield.

5) Turncoat.


	3. In Your Hands

_Title:__** Mourned Innocence**_

_**By:**__ Aina Song_

_**Fandom(s):**__ Fable: The Lost Chapters_

_**Genre:**__ Yaoi_

_**Rating:**__ PG-15_

_**Warning(s):**__ Mild Language; Direct Quotes; Altered Scenes_

_**Pairing(s):**__ Hero x OC_

_**Reviews:**__ Yes, please._

_**Author's Note:**__ Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money._

_**Teaser:**__ Unto the pure of heart are all things pure…_

**Chapter Three - In Your Hands**

The large door swung open, and a bespectacled young woman in red peered around it. "Thought I sensed your teleporting, Hero. Come on, the fuss is outside." And then she was gone, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Houle glanced questioningly at his friend. "Fuss?"

That constant look of unending kindness was still in those bright blue eyes, but there was also a somber expression in Paladin's face as he nodded. Still grasping the hand of the arm that had been slung across his shoulders, the white-haired Hero circled his other arm around Houle's waist. Houle felt yet another flush of warmth creep up his throat, but his body was still too busy protesting its exhaustion to care. His eyelids grew very heavy, and he did not halt them from closing. Sighing, he let his head lull to the side until it rested against his friend's shoulder. Paladin did not seem to mind, pulling the red-haired youth closer as he carefully walked them both out the doorway.

"…Many have died," a voice reached Houle's ears as they quietly drew near. "I believe these creatures are called… Summoners."

The voice sounded near yet distant, and Houle opened his eyes to learn why. His next breath stalled in his throat.

It was the work of powerful Will, this sending of another's image. The wraithlike form of a man covered in bandages and old winter robes stood upon a low platform, his feet only anchored by the pool of light in which he stood. "My mission here has failed," the man was saying. "I will attempt to stop their passage to the mainland. But, I require assistance. The strongest among you must open the Primal Demon Door close to this podium. It holds the Fire Heart. Only the chosen one will gain audience with the Prophets. Use the Heart to call the Ship of the Drowned. Hurry, before all is lost…"

Houle turned his head to look in the direction the man pointed. Across the path stood a stone wall, with the face of a bearded Wiseman. Houle had seen a Demon Door; there was one in Barrow Fields, which lay just outside of his hometown of Oakvale. But the silly fool carved into that one always refused to open, demanding to see someone with far too much meat on his/her bones before doing so. This one, however… It was called the Primal Demon Door. Its demands would not be so ridiculous, nor its prize so minimal.

The woman in red from before gave a shout, drawing Houle's attention once more. The man's bespelled image changed briefly into something Houle did not recognize, before disappearing completely.

"Scythe?" The woman tried, "Scythe!" She swore, turning to Paladin and - by circumstance - Houle. "The Demon Door awoke this morning, but none of us could get through. It says we're not worthy." She rolled her grey eyes, letting anyone who bore witness know her opinion on that.

"It is up to you, Hero."

He could feel his companion's ribs expand as the other's breath hitched in surprise, and Houle turned his head to find an elderly man in heavy robes approach them, a small tattoo of the Guild symbol marking the center of his bald forehead. This kindly man gave Paladin a brief smile in welcome, adding, "You defeated Jack single-handedly. If it will not open for you…"

"He's got a point," the woman put in. "I'll stick with my specialty and hit the books. We need to know what these Summoners are. Good luck." With that, she turned and jogged back toward the Guild entrance.

Paladin glanced toward the Demon Door, and then swung his bright blue gaze toward the elderly man. Houle saw a look of great compassion cross this one's worn features, as the man nodded. "I shall watch over him until you return."

The Hero replied with a nod of his own, and then gave Houle such a beseeching look that the young redhead could only murmur in agreement. Offering a gentle smile, Paladin lifted Houle's arm from his shoulders and carefully helped him to sit upon the steps of the stone platform. Something new and unreadable then flickered briefly in those eyes, before Paladin straightened to his feet and turned away. Houle and the elderly man both watched as the Hero went to stand before the Primal Demon Door.

After a few seconds of waiting, the face carved upon its surface opened its glowing eyes and regarded Paladin's presence. Its voice, when at last it spoke, was deep and gravelly, as though it too had been carved of stone. "You bear the mask of Jack of Blades. The Prophets had foreseen the coming of such a legend among Heroes." It paused, "The rise of the Summoners in the Northern Wastes marks the arrival of a new threat to all things living. We have long dreaded this portent. Behind my walls lies the Fire Heart. There you will speak to the Prophets who watch over it." Another pause, and then it seemed to nod its permission. "You may enter now. But beware the beating of the Heart. It has burned many before you."

The face then vanished, and the stone doors slid slowly apart. There was a long moment's tense silence, as though the world itself could sense Paladin's hesitation, yet at last he stepped forth and disappeared within the mouth of the cave.

"Will he be okay," Houle found himself softly wondering aloud.

The elderly man standing at his side glanced down, some mild surprise showing on his face. Yet Houle did not see it, for he was staring fixedly toward the cave across the path. Realization slowly filled the man's grey gaze, and he offered the copper-haired youth a smile of understanding. "Quiet your fears, young one. Your friend is one Hero that will not so easily fail."

Feeling somewhat reassured, Houle sat back a bit, leaning his shoulder against a tall but slim column. He kept his vigil upon the cave for his companion's return, though he could feel his eyelids growing heavy once more…

~o~

"You have the Fire Heart?" the elderly man's voice whispered above him, slowly breaking through the peace of his slumber. "Excellent. I knew you'd be able to do it."

Houle blinked his eyes open, blearily realizing that he must have fallen asleep, yet not willing just yet to return to the world of wakefulness. He lifted his gaze to find that Paladin was tucking something large and fiery bright into a bespelled hide sack. The woman from earlier had returned as well, a grim look on her face even as she said, "I bet those Prophets were a barrel of laughs, too. You always get to do the fun stuff." She sighed, "Well I've been looking into these Summoner creatures, and I'm beginning to think throwing away the Sword of Aeons wasn't the best idea after all. These things are _bad_. Too late to do anything now, though."

"Perhaps not," the elderly man answered. Upon receiving Paladin's curious look, he smiled. "I'll explain later, my boy. Right now, I believe it prudent that we find your friend somewhere more restful to sleep."

At the word _sleep_, Houle's entire body seemed to murmur in agreement, and he closed his eyes. Arms came around him and effortlessly lifted him up from the stone platform, and he could vaguely sense someone's warm shoulder cushioning the side of his head…

~o~

When next he awoke, Houle found himself lying under the warm blankets of a modest no-poster bed. He stared up at an unfamiliar ceiling for several long moments before rolling his head to the side. Bright blue eyes met his gaze, and Paladin offered a sincere smile to find that he had awakened. Houle's face grew warm, "How long was I out?"

In answer, his friend pointed toward a window. Houle looked and saw that the sun was a yellowish orange and was just beginning to rise. He must have slept through the rest of the afternoon, through the night, and into the next morning. He pushed the blankets away from his chest and sat up, noting that the layers of leather hide from his new clothes had been set aside near the bed, and that he now only wore the light cotton shirt and leggings usually hidden underneath. Embarrassed that he had been partially disrobed without his knowing, Houle cleared his throat and returned his attention to his companion. "Please tell me you haven't deprived yourself of a good night's sleep to watch over me?"

His smile growing bemused, Paladin shook his head and pointed toward an empty bed across the room.

"You slept there?"

He nodded.

Houle, trying to remember the events of the day before, asked, "Did you manage to get the Fire Heart?" When Paladin nodded again, Houle wondered, "You're in the middle of an important quest now, aren't you."

Paladin confirmed his suspicions with yet another nod, and Houle felt immense guilt to know that such a quest was being delayed on his account. Standing, he donned his leather armour and carefully replaced his two knives where they belonged. Only then could he again meet his friend gaze as Paladin got to his feet as well. "I think I've rested enough. If it agrees with you, I would like to join you on this quest of yours."

Paladin's eyes showed much surprise, then. But Houle continued before he could be refused. "I know I haven't shown it, but I have had training to defend myself. My father tried to teach me, wanting me to become a guard like him." He moved one hand to lightly touch where one of his knives hung from his right bicep. "That's why I was so… upset, I suppose, when I received these. I may not enjoy the thought of needing a weapon, but that doesn't mean I wouldn't know how to handle them if I did."

His friend gave him a long-considering look, and then it was Houle's turn to know surprise when Paladin grasped his hand and led him out of the spacious room and down some stairs. They had returned to the map room, where that same elderly man and woman in red from before stood talking together. The elderly man glanced their way as they passed, but said nothing as Paladin led Houle along a blue carpet which guided them through a small shop area and then outdoors.

There was a courtyard, with statues of Heroes past and a handful of graves for the best of them. Still holding Houle's hand, Paladin brought them both across a small bridge and toward a large grass field divided into three separate training areas. By now guessing his friend's intent, Houle let himself be led to a fenced circle obviously meant for melee practice. Only then did Paladin release his hand, leaping over the fence and taking up a forgotten staff while inviting Houle to follow. Houle did, pulling his knives free from their sheaths. The white-haired Hero nodded his permission, and Houle attacked.

He demonstrated very quickly that one night's rest had restored the majority of his natural vigor. Houle was very swift on his feet, closing in with several daring strikes and slashes, and then gracefully sweeping out of the way to defend himself against Paladin's staff. Paladin never once used his Will or vaster experience to take advantage, as he was only allowing Houle to prove a point. And prove it the emerald-eyed youth did, never pausing until Paladin motioned for a halt in their scuffle.

The Hero did not yet seem completely satisfied, leading Houle toward a tree which had been surrounded by practice dummies. At Houle's questioning glance, Paladin backed them several paces away from the dummies and knelt to reach into his own boot. Slipping free a knife he had used to break Houle's ropes the day before, he straightened and flung the thing toward one of the dummies. It flew straight and true, lodging itself into the dummy's chest. Now understanding, Houle caught the tip of one of his own knives and took aim. Its blade dug into the dummy's chest, very near to where the Hero's knife had struck. Paladin's bright blue eyes lit with approval, and his mouth broke in a genuine smile when Houle backed further away and the other knife was thrown at the dummy's head.

Houle retrieved his knives, checking them over and tucking them away before freeing the Hero's blade and returning it to its owner. It seemed his small skill sufficed, for Paladin led him back toward the shop they had passed. Once there, he purchased for Houle a handful of health potions and a single resurrection phial. He bespelled the potions' glass bottles before giving them and the gold-filigree phial over to Houle. The redhead knew that resurrection phials were always bespelled during their creation, ensuring that they would not crack or shatter until their carrier had desperate need of one. He tucked them away into his largest pouch, which hung from his hip, but then looked up with much surprise when Paladin offered him a few gold coins as well. Not wishing to insult his friend's generosity, Houle wordlessly accepted the coins and slipped them into one of the smaller pouches slung across his chest.

"Have a good day," the shopkeeper bade in farewell as they stepped again into the map room.

They were greeted by the elderly man and the woman in red, who introduced themselves as the Guildmaster and Briar Rose. Houle humbly gave his name in return. Paladin reached into a white pouch hidden by the folds of his robes, bringing out a glass phial that Houle immediately recognized as the treasure they had come across outside of the Darkwood Bordello. Paladin removed the protective spell he had placed upon the phial, offering the Will Master's elixir to the Guildmaster.

The man's weathered face showed much surprise as he accepted the gift. "T-Thank you, my boy. I had almost lost hope that there were any left. Where did you recover it?"

At last understanding why his friend had kept it so safe, Houle answered, "A blue chest, in Darkwood."

If ever there was still truth to the bards' songs, it would be the one about Jack of Blades' attack one year ago upon the Heroes' Guild itself. How the building had become nearly engulfed in flames, and how the Guildmaster - skilled though he was - had lost almost every drop of his Will trying to stop the dark entity. If ever there was one with the greatest need for an elixir, it would be this wizened old man standing before them. For the elixir - its power virtually endless - would restore its drinker's Will to the very strength he had once possessed.

Under the witness of Paladin, Houle, and Briar Rose, the Guildmaster carefully urged the cork loose and tipped the contents of the phial into his mouth. He swallowed. Houle could not determine any noticeable change, but after a moment both Briar and Paladin solemnly applauded the success of the elixir. Apparently, having some talents in the Will themselves, they could sense the return of power within their Guildmaster.

"Now then," the man spoke to Paladin, tucking the empty phial into a pocket of his robes. "The explanation I promised you yesterday."

Briar nodded, "I hope you really know something that can give us the kind of edge we would've had with that Sword of Aeons, sir."

"It's only a legend," the man warned, "but for centuries there have been tales of a powerful weapon hidden here in the Guild. It's said to be imbued with the essence of all the Heroes buried there." He went on to explain that, like the Primal Demon Door, this ancient weapon merely waited for one to wield it. Maze, before he had become the Betrayer, had secretly researched how to entice the weapon to reveal itself. Perhaps something in his quarters would turn out any results he might have come across.

Paladin nodded, taking Houle's hand once more in a silent plea for the redhead to follow. Together they climbed the Guild's single tower and both began searching through Maze's bookshelves. "Here," Houle spoke up nearly an hour later. Crossing the room to where Paladin had paused in his own search, he held forth the book in his hands so that both could read from a page of a journal Houle had discovered:

"_One need only read the inscription from the headstone of the empty grave aloud…"_

"Do you know which one he meant?"

Paladin nodded. Houle tossed the journal atop a small table as they descended the tower stairs and approached the statue courtyard. the small number of graves there were arranged around a stone fountain which did not spurt its water but let it trickle from one elevated bowl into another.**(6)** They circled slowly around until they found the empty grave, and Paladin knelt before its headstone.

Houle had a sudden concern. The journal had said to read the inscription aloud. But his white-haired companion did not speak. How could they hope to accomplish this?

Paladin remained on his knees for a long moment, tracing his fingers slowly over the letters carved into the stone. Houle's gaze followed that arm up to its shoulder, then went on along the throat to settle upon Paladin's mouth. A well-chiseled mouth with finely curved lips that suddenly would not release Houle's stare. In fact, it took several seconds for Houle to come back to himself fully enough to realize that those lips were moving in a silent whisper. Houle knew immediately what those lips were mouthing: _This grave awaits a hero worthy of joining the legends who lie here._

Houle was shocked to realize then that Paladin being mute was not due to lack of voice, but through conscious will. The white-haired Hero _could_ speak, but for some reason chose not to. Yet it seemed the favored servant of Avo did not need to speak aloud his prayers to be heard. A mist lifted up from behind the headstone and solidified into a large sword, the pure blade of which divided in two yet still appearing incredibly strong. It was then that a disembodied voice gently filled the courtyard:

"_We sense that you are pure of heart and have sacrificed great power for the good of our land. We judge you worthy, Hero. May _Avo's Tear_ burn through the forces of evil in your hands."_

6) Yes, I know. There _were_ fountains in the courtyard, just not in that particular spot. The reason I ignored the existence of the other fountains and stuck that one there is because it fit better with the mood of that scene.


	4. Along Their Path

**Title:** Mourned Innocence

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Fable: The Lost Chapters

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Mild Language; Direct Quotes; Altered Scenes

**Pairing(s):** Hero x OC

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Teaser:** Unto the pure of heart are all things pure…

**Chapter Four - Along Their Path**

_Avo's Tear…_

As Paladin got to his feet and carefully received the weapon gifted to him, Houle found his mind lingering, not on the ancient blade's unique name, but on the fact that for a moment he had been distracted by his friend's mouth. But Paladin had placed the sword with _Arken's_ at his back and was now turning his bright blue gaze upon him, and so Houle swiftly pushed this thought to the back of his mind to dwell upon later.

Yet the white-haired Hero seemed to sense something amiss with the redhead, a quietly imploring look crossing his features as this time he offered for Houle to take _his_ hand instead of the other way around. Feeling his throat and face grow warm - _when_ was he going to stop doing that? - Houle wordlessly accepted the offer and let himself be led again to the map room.

The Guildmaster greeted them, congratulating Paladin for retrieving the sword. "Briar Rose has gone ahead of you, Hero. Hurry now; you must take the Fire Heart to Hook Coast." He passed to Paladin a white hide sack and a rolled up old map, his grey gaze taking note of their clasped hands. "Take care, the both of you."

_And Houle Cheshire_, he whispered into one mind as they turned away, nearly causing the caramel-skinned youth to falter in his steps. _That man is to me as my own son. I beg of you. Do not break his heart._

Houle could only spare a glance over his shoulder, his surprise allowing Paladin to pull him close as together the entered a glowing blue cullis gate and left the Guild behind them.

~o~

Hook Coast was an isolated town, bordered by mountains and ocean shore. Its secrets were kept by its people, nearly forgotten under the layer of snow which blanketed the ground. Houle felt the cold immediately, and was quickly becoming appreciative of the gloves on his hands and the layer of cottons under his light leather armour.

Their arrival was met by a single guardsman, who informed Paladin that the town had already been evacuated as per the Guildmaster's request before disappearing himself through the cullis gate. Houle followed Paladin into the town square, where Briar Rose was waiting.

Her bespectacled gaze widened upon finding that the white-haired Hero had not come alone. "What are you doing here?" She asked of Houle. "You could get hurt."

Not wishing to dignify the insinuated insult toward his abilities with a response, Houle clenched his jaw and said not a word. Yet Paladin seemed to disagree, stepping forth and giving the woman the first glare Houle had ever seen in those bright blue eyes. He might have chosen to become a mute, but it appeared he did not need words to get his point across. Briar looked very uncomfortable indeed, turning her gaze aside and even taking a step back. Accepting that as an apology, Paladin turned back to Houle with a gentle smile and offered his hand.

Houle took the hand and let himself be led to the lighthouse. Together they climbed its spiral staircase to the top of its tower. There, an elevated plaque stood before an empty bowl of stone. Paladin released Houle's hand in favor of bringing forth the white hide sack he had been carrying around in his other fist. Carefully, he pulled the mouth of the sack open.

Instantly, the tower room was flooded with massive heat that stole the very breath from Houle's lungs. He gasped, trying to catch it again as he fell back against a wall and slowly sank to the floor. Paladin very swiftly thrust his hands into the sack and brought out the Fire Heart. Though its heat still left him breathless, Houle marveled that it was a large gem perhaps the size of six fists placed together. He could _feel_ its pulse thrum against his own. Paladin placed it into the stone bowl, where it lifted several inches up into the air and began to spin. Houle gave a cry and threw himself the rest of the way to the floor as the mystic gem came alive with a burst of fire and light.

When he next opened his eyes, Paladin was kneeling over him with a look of much concern on his face. Houle tried to swallow the dryness from his mouth and throat to speak, but the Fire Heart's power was still too great. Paladin's hands hovered over him, and a faint blue glow poured from them to gently encase Houle's body. It was not long before Houle gasped in a deep breath, feeling the immense heat lessen somewhat as he sat carefully up. He looked down upon himself to find that Paladin's Will had lingered, protecting him as it had the phial of elixir.**(7)**

"Hey, up there!"

He looked up, watching as his friend stood and looked out a window. Houle could hear Briar Rose's voice hollering up to them. "We've got trouble! Summoners are showing up down here, and it looks like they're wanting to stop the Fire Heart before it can call the Ship!"

The white-haired Hero nodded, coming back to kneel again before Houle. His eyes held something unreadable within their bright blue gaze, and after a moment he reached with one hand and lightly cupped Houle's jaw. Dark green eyes widened, to which Paladin offered a gentle smile before slowly moving his hand away. Standing, he brought _Avo's Tear_ over his shoulder and, with one more lingering smile, he turned and raced down the tower stairs to help their ally keep the Summoners at bay.

Houle stared after him, the Guildmaster's words suddenly whispering again within his skull. "Don't break his heart…" His chest tightened painfully, as he now understood the warning.

~o~

Another explosion of fire and light, from which Paladin's spell protected him, signaled the Fire Heart was at last ready to call upon the Ship of the Drowned. Scrambling to his feet, Houle moved to the window to shout the news down to the two Heroes. His breath caught in his throat, and he dove out of the way as a giant ball of energy collided with the roof of the tower. He shielded his head from the splinters and large pieces of wood which fell from the ceiling after such an attack.

Deciding it was no longer safe to wait there, Houle carefully made for the spiraling staircase and made his way down. At last he reached the lighthouse's ground-floor room, which seemed to have suffered as much damage as its tower. But a glint of light caught his eye, and he knew a moment's curiosity. Carefully he knelt down, shoving aside a large piece of wood. His dark green eyes widened.

"What are you doing, Hero," Briar's voice snapped impatiently. "Get going; you've got a quest to complete, and the world to save!"

Quickly taking his discovery into his fist, Houle straightened to his feet and stepped through the broken doorway. Several paces ahead of him, he found Paladin watching the lighthouse, waiting for him. The Hero smiled when he noticed Houle's exit, swiftly coming to meet the redhead. A look of fierce worry filled those bright blue eyes, only slowly fading as Paladin carefully assured himself that Houle had remained unharmed.

Houle lightly pushed his hands away. "I'm all right," he murmured helpfully. He lifted his own hand between them, opening his fist. "Look. I found this under some of the debris."

It was a silver key. Houle knew that the Hero had nineteen more on a large ring in one of the pockets of his robes; he had seen Paladin use fifteen of them to unlock a blue chest in Darkwood. With this one, the white-haired Hero might be able to find and unlock more blue chests with even rarer treasures.

Paladin accepted the silver key, absently slipping it into the wrong pocket before going back to his assessment of Houle's well-being.

"I'm not hurt," the redhead patiently said again, stopping the Hero's hands before they could search again for injury. "Your Will protected me, remember?"

When Paladin shook his head, Houle looked down at himself to find that the blue glow of the Hero's protective spell had worn away without his notice. And judging from Paladin's anxiety, it had happened at a most inopportune time. Houle knew a moment of unpleasant realization. "W-When- Did it happen… _before_ that blast to the tower?"

The Hero nodded, suddenly pulling him into a tight embrace. Houle was only grateful for the arms that circled around him, for he did not feel certain just then that his legs could have held him up on their own. The embrace felt surprisingly comforting, and Houle lifted his arms around Paladin's to return it, letting his head fall against the other's shoulder with a small sigh.

"Ah-hem."

Houle flinched at the interruption, but refused to back away. He could feel Paladin turn his head toward the direction of their ally's voice, likely giving one of those glances meant as an inquiry.

To which Briar Rose answered, "If you still insist on taking him with you - which I can see now that you are - then I suggest you hurry. Scythe's message was pretty insistent, you'll remember."

Paladin's arms tightened around the caramel-skinned youth, before he released him and stepped away. Houle smiled, understanding, and offered his own hand this time to show that he was still willing to follow. The expression that lit across Paladin's face warmed Houle to the core, so that even the returning chill of the mountain air could not touch him. The white-haired Hero accepted his hand, thumb brushing the back of his palm for a second or two, before the both stepped along the pier and boarded the ghost ship. Houle spared only one glance over his shoulder, wishing a silent farewell to Briar Rose and Hook Coast.

~o~

The Ship of the Drowned was an unmanned vessel; old, worn, its sails tattered… It sailed itself through waters both calm and treacherous. Though it had been rumored to be a ghost ship - again, through songs sung by bards who clearly did not know their history - neither soul nor spirit haunted its empty cabins. For weeks it drifted north, and its two passengers had nearly spent through the food supply Briar had packed and loaded onto the ship for them.

Toward the end of their voyage, Houle discovered something. The captain's cabin, never occupied, was quite obviously favored by the rest of the ship. Every day upon the stroke of midday, the table in the center of the room was mysteriously laden with a small mountain of food. Meats, fruits, cheeses, and several kinds of beers and wines… All waiting to be devoured. But after an hour, consumed or not, it would all disappear. And another meal would not be found for the rest of the day.

Houle did not tempt himself at first, suspecting that perhaps it was a trick of the ship. But their supply grew scarce, and he hated that he was beginning to feel useless. Thinking perhaps that his discovery needed another opinion, he brought Paladin to the captain's cabin to witness the meal's manifestation. His suspicions were confirmed, however, when Paladin immediately shook his head and barred the door.

"I'm sorry," Houle muttered as they sat again at the usual area on deck. "I-I thought…"

Something came into his line of vision, and he looked up to find that Paladin was offering him their last green apple. It was still ripe as the day it had been picked, thanks to the Hero's Will, and thus had survived their trying journey. Houle accepted the apple, staring at his friend in surprise. Paladin gave a gentle smile and nodded. He wanted Houle to have it for himself.

Houle glanced down at the apple in his hand for a long moment. Then, coming to a decision, he took one of his knives and cut the thing clean in half. Paladin's bright blue eyes grew wide as he was given one of the halves, and Houle offered a hesitant smile.

"I won't eat, if you don't."

~o~

The Ship finally touched shore, marked on Paladin's worn map as Lost Bay. They had arrived at last within the Northern Wastes. As they left the Ship and stepped ashore, they were greeted by another sending of Will in Scythe's image.

"I had feared you lost, Hero. My apologies for not coming to meet you in person. I must remain here in the village to protect it from the Summoners. Come to Snowspire, Hero, and we will discuss the details of your quest." And his image vanished, leaving Houle and Paladin to their own devices.

The Northern Wastes, if at all possible, held even more snow and chill than had Hook Coast. The journey over the nameless oceans had been comfortable enough, even with the lack of crew and supplies. The salt of the sea air had often offered the illusion of some traces of warmth. The Ship of the Drowned had indeed been a thing of much mystery.

But now that the voyage had ended, Houle was again feeling the cruelty of the icy winds of an endless winter. Even Paladin had pulled the hood of his robes over his head. Houle did not wish to pester the white-haired Hero for some warming spell or other, knowing that his friend would need to conserve as much Will energy as possible, so he followed without complaint through a thin, bare forest along a path only the other knew. Trailing behind gave him the opportunity to inconspicuously adjust the bindings of his light leather armour so that its fit was snug enough to keep some of the chill at bay. Feeling somewhat better, he followed his friend at a short distance Paladin had insisted upon for Houle's safety.

Hearing something move up ahead, Houle paused and let his friend investigate. The Hero rounded a bend in their path, and Houle could soon make out the sounds of an echoing roar and the crashing of frozen earth and ice. Houle was suddenly glad for Paladin's precaution. His own skills were far less than a match for a _troll_.

The noises continued on for quite some time, and Houle's growing concern for his friend had him cursing that he could not help in some way. Finally, the forest grew very quiet, and soft footfalls preceded Paladin as he slowly came back around the bend. His steps were patient and careful, as though weighted down with sudden exhaustion, and he was grasping the shoulder of his sword arm.

"Are you all right?"

The hand grasping his shoulder glowed briefly, and Paladin let out a great sigh. He nodded.

They passed under the mouth of a cavern tunnel, coming out again within another bit of the forest. A solitary howl haunted their ears, and Houle's spine froze. Balverines. He could see them in the distance, their grey pelts almost blending in with the fog and the snow which blanketed the forest floor. Paladin let go of Houle's hand, giving him a look meant to ask for the redhead to wait again. Houle frowned, shaking his head as he took his knives into his fists, silently insisting that he would not be left behind this time.

The Hero's lips pressed together in a grim line, but he did not argue.

When they neared, the Balverines did not hesitate to attack. Houle was reminded that an enemy's large claws and even sharper teeth were an impossible danger to fend off with only two small knives. But, though his father had trained him in many different weapons, knives had always been Houle's forte. He proved his skill very quickly.

He with his knives, and Paladin with his sword and Will. Together they fought, and found themselves like two well-oiled mechanisms that worked sufficiently enough alone, but were perfected when fitted one with the other. Only once did Houle lose his footing, to which Paladin automatically responded by throwing a protective spell in the redhead's direction while himself busy with another of the Balverines. Houle recognized the feel of the magical shield, swiftly rolling away from the pounce of the creature he had been fighting and regaining his feet in the next instant.

Slowly, one by one, the monstrous animals were slain. Houle felled his beast, turning in time to watch the final Balverine howl its last as it was run through with the _Avo's Tear_. Paladin turned to him, his bright blue eyes growing wide as another dreaded howl sounded just behind the copper-haired youth. Houle spun on his heel, knowing a fear for his life as yet one more Balverine came dropping through the air in an inescapable blur of teeth and claws. Houle reacted on instinct, throwing both of his knives for its heart, seconds before it fell upon him.

He must have blacked out for a moment after his spine had hit the ground, for the next thing that registered in his mind was the heavy weight across his chest. The Balverine's large black eyes stared blankly back at him, its jaws still parted in a frozen snarl. Still unspeakably frightening, but no longer living. Swallowing, Houle pushed himself out from beneath the body, scurrying a bit before regaining his feet. The knives he had thrown had hit their mark, soaked now in the Balverine's dark blood. Houle took them back, wiping their blades in the snow before restoring them to their sheaths. At the sound of footsteps, he looked up to find Paladin coming his way. The hood of his robes had fallen back, and the winds were enticing the white locks of his hair to dance around the base of his neck as he came to stand before the redhead.

Unknowing to the reason why, Houle was suddenly unable to halt the tears that stung in his eyes, and he wrapped his arms around the other's waist with a small cry. _Avo's Tear_ was dropped to the ground, and he could feel Paladin's arms circle around his back, soft lips kissing his temple before the warmth of Paladin's cheek settled atop his head. The Hero's chest moved with heavy, uneven gasps for air, and Houle could feel his own heart beating erratically between them. He closed his eyes and pulled himself tighter within their embrace.

It was a long moment before Paladin's hands grasped his shoulders, and the white-haired Hero gently urged them apart. Houle looked up. Paladin smiled, to which Houle shakily responded, and their hands sought each other out. With his free hand the Hero once again took up _Avo's Tear_ and together they started again along their path.

7) Physical Shield, again.


	5. Their Promise

**Title:** Mourned Innocence

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Fable: The Lost Chapters

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Mild Language; Direct Quotes; Altered Scenes

**Pairing(s):** Hero x OC

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Teaser:** Unto the pure of heart are all things pure…

**Chapter Five - Their Promise**

Scythe, in the flesh, met them upon their arrival to Snowspire Village. Paladin was taken aside to discuss their quest. Several long minutes later he returned, his hands gesturing expressively.

Houle took a guess. "You have something you need to do for the quest?"

The white-haired Hero nodded.

"And… You want me to wait here?"

Another nod.

"But, why?" Houle lightly grasped Paladin's shoulders, forbidding the other to leave without explaining. "I can fight; you've seen it. I'm not helpless."

Such a pleading look crossed Paladin's bright blue eyes, and he gently brought a hand to Houle's cheek. Houle instinctively leaned his face into the touch, but refused to weaken his resolve. "Please. At least promise to let me join you again when you come back."

A tender smile, a kiss to his brow.

Houle nodded, accepting that he had been given his friend's word, and pulled the other into a quick embrace. Paladin stroked his fingers over the area where he had kissed Houle's forehead, then turned and exited the village.

Houle decided to find something constructive to do, and so he spent the time alone to explore this northern civilization. Among the first buildings to come in sight was a tavern. However, though he really could do with something to eat, he passed it by and followed some stone steps out of the square. The weapons shop he also avoided; just looking at it reminded him of his very narrow escape.

Another shop did catch his eye, for he had never seen one like it before. Its giant sign was carved to resemble two open palms, each offering a gold coin bearing the likeness of the last royal daughter of the Old Kingdom.

"It means 'charity'."

Houle turned, his dark green eyes going wide as he took in a warmly bundled woman with skin darker than his own. In all of Albion, he had come across no other with skin to compare to his caramel coloring. It gave Houle enough pause to finally take notice of the other townsfolk. Nearly every citizen was dark-skinned.

His father had always claimed the Cheshire family had once dwelled somewhere other than Oakvale, and his mother had always looked so homesick upon hearing even a mention of the Northern lands.

At last, Houle understood why.

"Anna," the woman spoke again, calling into the open door of the shop. "I think you may have a customer out here."

Another woman, this one with a white line tattooed across the bridge of her nose, appeared at the doorway. She gave an easy smile of welcome. "Good afternoon, traveler. You must be the Hero that Scythe mentioned would visit us."

"No," he uncomfortably corrected. "Paladin is the Hero. My name is Houle."

Her smile, so warm and sincere, never slackened as she nodded, accepting the news. She beckoned him into her shop, waving as the first woman continued on her way. "My shop is quite new, I'm afraid," she shrugged, letting him browse curiously among the many barrels and crates lining the walls. "When Scythe announced that the coming of another Hero would reactivate our cullis gates, we knew it to mean the reestablishment of trade between Snowspire and the rest of Albion. Once this whole messy business with those Summoners is over, of course."

"His name sounds familiar when I hear it." Houle wondered, "Wasn't he once a Hero, too?"

"Oh, yes," she nodded importantly. "The Guild sent him to us to investigate some rumors or other - I never really learned which. And he was the first to suspect Maze of working for Jack of Blades. That's why our cullis gates have been deactivated for so long, you see. They only work within the presence of a Guild Seal, after all, and Scythe had destroyed his years ago so that Maze could not spy on him."

Houle nodded absently, hugging himself as a particularly cold winter wind blew in through the open door.

"Oh, you poor thing!" The charity worker gave a look of much sympathy, quickly rummaging through one of her barrels and holding something red before him. "Here; without charge. You must be freezing!"

He stammered before her generosity, "I-I can't accept this…"

"I beg to differ," she smiled again. "In fact, I insist. After all, what is the point of my shop, if I can't put it to use?"

Houle took the fabrics into his hands, staring as he recognized their design to be the kind most worn by - "Assassins…"

"That once belonged to a Fire Assassin, to be more precise." She gave an easy laugh at his look of surprise, "Oh, don't worry; you won't find any of them anymore. Long ago, it's said they were members of a dragon cult outlawed by the Old Kingdom. Its last survivor passed those reds along to his firstborn, and so on and so forth, until his so-many-times great-grandson donated it to me when he heard of my plans to open this shop. And now I'm 'donating' it to you." She waved away any further protests, "Go on, go on; take it, young sir. You're obviously suffering from our harsh winds, and those reds still carry an enchantment which help their wearer to stay warm and comfortable not matter how terrible the winter."

Houle swallowed, finally deeming it useless to argue. "T-Thank you, madam. Um… Where…?"

She understood immediately, trusting him enough to leave him alone in the shop and closing the door to give him some privacy. Moving swiftly so as not to expose his skin to the cold air, Houle traded his clothes for the reds gifted him. Their appearance was simple enough when he had done. Shaded in both blood and crimson, they were indeed snug but flexible enough to allow much movement. They had a number of hidden pouches, to one of which he transferred the handful of gold coins Paladin had given him, placing his potions and resurrection elixir in another. There were pointed shoulder guards, armoured gloves, and toed boots. Fire runes marked his back, left hip, left breast and shoulder guards; his collar was scarved, and his throat and lower face were covered by an assassin's mask.

The charity worker knocked upon her own door, and Houle voiced that he was decent enough for her to come in. Wintery winds blew in with the opening of the door, and Houle discovered that she had been right. The fabrics did indeed provide a constant warmth that gently hummed into his very skin. He knew a moment's hesitation. "Their power won't…?"

"Turn on you? Oh no, of course not. After all, it's not the clothes that make the man, remember." She took note of the sheathed knives in his hands, "Those are lovely, dear, but their size can't really be helping you much outside our village."

A shudder running up his spine at the reminder, Houle nodded. "But I prefer knives to larger weapons."

"Come with me, then. And don't worry about those leathers, dear; I'll be more than happy to add them to the shop." The woman led him down the street, back toward the square until they arrived at the weapons shop.

"Anna," its owner greeted. "And what might I do for you, this afternoon?"

"Oh, not me, Jaiglo." She gently urged Houle forth, "This young man is traveling with the Hero that has come to help us. Would you allow him to trade his knives for a pair of better ones to defend himself with?"

"I do owe you that favor," the man nodded, rubbing at the back of his head. "All right then, lad; let me see what you've got there."

Houle handed over his knives, and the man looked them over with a critical eye. "Obsidian, eh? A good metal; very durable. Seen some action, have they?"

"Yes, sir," he quietly answered.

The shopkeeper browsed a bit behind his counter, saying, "We don't usually carry knives, anymore, but I think - Yes, here it is." Straightening, he placed what he had found atop the counter.

Houle stared, letting his gloved fingers pass lightly over a belt cut from the tough black hide of some nameless creature, lined with gold cord.

"The work of one the Old Masters," the man proudly revealed.

Swallowing, he brought his hand away and shook his head. "I'm sorry, sir. I can't afford this."

"Come now, did I mention a price?" Jaiglo waved away any further protests. "I'm already considering this a favor I owe to Anna, so I insist that you accept it."

Seeing that this man was going to be every bit as stubborn in his generosity as had been the charity worker, Houle finally nodded. He fitted the sheaths of his two knives to the belt, and then strapped the thing around his waist. "Thank you," he addressed to Jaiglo and Anna. "You have both been immensely kind, and have my utmost gratitude."

They smiled, and Houle excused himself from the shop. He wandered a bit more along the streets, coming to the end of one to discover a smaller square where two traders had set up their stands. He spoke with one, paying a few of his handful of coins for something he had glimpsed amongst the items available.

Just as the something he had wanted was placed in his palm, another's hand fell lightly to his shoulder. He turned, finding Paladin standing there with a curious expression in his bright blue eyes. Surprised that his friend had already returned, Houle gave a timid smile and offered his purchase to the Hero. Paladin accepted the modest phial of Will potion with a gentle smile for the small gesture, but then his gaze moved to take in Houle's appearance. Houle looked down at his new attire, knowing a moment of uncertainty. "I-I was cold, and the charity worker…"

With another smile, the white-haired Hero pocketed the blue phial and brought a hand to Houle's cheek. As before, the redhead reacted instinctively to the familiarity of the touch. The Hero's smile grew endearing, and he reached up with his other hand, gently hooking both thumbs into Houle's mask and bringing it down, baring the rest of his face. Giving enough time for Houle to pull away, Paladin then brought their lips together in a soft, unassuming kiss.

Houle's heart leapt unexpectedly, but his eyes closed as he felt his body willing him to accept the kiss and return it. His hands he let fist the front of Paladin's robes and he could feel the Hero's arms circling around his waist and drawing him closer. He felt something wet tease at his lower lip, and with a sound from the depth of his throat he parted his lips to let Paladin's tongue patiently plunder the caverns of his mouth. He thought he could feel the Hero smiling against his mouth in relief or approval, and Houle let him tilt his head to further deepen their kiss.

When at last they broke apart, Houle feared his head was swimming, and from more than just the return of air to his lungs. He opened his eyes to find Paladin watching him with a bemused expression, and a sudden warmth that did not come from his magicked attire flushed his cheeks.

"I hope I'm not interrupting…"

Houle glanced over Paladin's shoulder, gave a soft yelp, then buried his face into the white-haired Hero's chest. Paladin's arms gently tightened around his back in a comforting manner as they shifted a bit so that Paladin could turn to see who had come seeking them out.

It was Scythe, who did not seemed disturbed at their display. "Briar Rose has arrived," the man addressed Paladin. "She's waiting for you at the Archon's Shrine. I ask that you hurry, Hero. You alone have defeated Jack; our hopes are with you to do so again."

At the name, Houle looked up with wide dark green eyes. "Jack of Blades? He's back? But…" He turned his gaze upon his companion, "H-How is that possible?"

In answer, Paladin let go of the redhead in favor of reaching into the large white pouch hidden by the folds of his robes. He brought out a bundle of thin parchment-hides, the layers of which he unwrapped with utmost care. Revealed within was an item that would forever be immediately recognized. Forged of a strange, nameless material, its color was a tainted white that had been painted over with the blood of an unlucky first victim to make it look even more evil than it already was.

Houle stared, having never seen it but knowing it for what it was. "Jack's Mask…"

Paladin nodded, swiftly wrapping the thing up once more and tucking it again into his pouch. Houle tried his best to think beyond his shock. "Does his power come from that Mask?" His question was affirmed. "And… He needs it, in order to come back to full power?"

"Yes," Scythe answered this time.

"Then, the only way to stop him must be to destroy his Mask."

Paladin nodded.

Houle immediately read the look in those bright blue eyes, and he quickly shook his head. "No," he quietly argued. "You promised. I don't care what happens before this quest is over; I'm staying with you. Please, don't leave me behind again."

The Hero's expression cleared into one of gentle relief, as though he had feared the truth of his quest might scare Houle into abandoning their promise.


	6. A Fitful Sleep

**Title:** Mourned Innocence

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Fable: The Lost Chapters

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Mild Language; Direct Quotes; Altered Scenes

**Pairing(s):** Hero x OC

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Teaser:** Unto the pure of heart are all things pure…

**Chapter Six - A Fitful Sleep**

Briar Rose pressed her lips together in disapproval when Paladin arrived with Houle steadfastly at his side, but wisely said nothing on the matter. Pointing to the north, she informed them, "We expect his new form will emerge from there. The Bronze Gate. And we know that this shrine," she added, spreading her arms to indicate the stone gazebo in which they stood, "is somehow connected. Look at this."

She led them over to one of three wheel-like stones, each with their own symbols. This first bore carvings of large swords. "I've already translated it. It means 'King of the Arena'. Apparently, we've got to give each stone a soul that matches their descriptions. Otherwise the shrine's useless."

"A soul?" Houle stepped closer, the cogs in his mind working as they always did. "Three souls in all, or we can't get in through that gate to stop Jack?"

"That's what I said, yes."

The Hero gave her a sharp look for her clipped tone, which effectively silenced her sarcasm.

Houle did not notice their exchange; he was too busy thinking aloud. "The most recent history books are saying that Jack was a collector of souls. But we _need_ souls to open the gate, so…" He looked up, turning to Paladin with a soft question in his eyes. "We don't want to give Jack any souls that might help bring him to full power. Maybe… If the souls were pure…?"

The white-haired Hero smiled encouragingly, easing Houle's worries that he might have been on the wrong track.

"That's very good, actually," Briar Rose grudgingly approved. "Now, this one is the 'King of the Arena'. Other than our Hero here, the only person that comes to mind is Thunder, but maybe he'll know more. You'll find him at Knothole Glade. I'll head back to the Guild and try to decipher these other stones while you two are busy."

~o~

Knothole Glade was the only village of Witchwood Isle, and Thunder was a giant of a man. It also seemed he held a grudge against Paladin for winning over his sister Whisper in the Arena. He gave them the information they needed, but not without throwing a few insults toward the Hero's honor that Houle found very difficult to ignore. Only Paladin's hand clasping his kept the redhead from saying anything. It did not take him long to realize the reason: Knothole Glade, usually plagued by some evil or other, had closed its gates with the claim that for once its villagers did not need a Hero's assistance.

Thunder was only speaking out of frustration for not being able to find any work.

They left the village glade, just as it began to rain. Houle followed Paladin along the island paths toward the doors of the Arena. When they entered the building, they were greeted by countless lifeless bodies littering the stone floor. The white-haired Hero's first reaction was to throw his protective spell over Houle and then himself. Houle took heed of the example, readying his knives.

Then they entered the fighting area of the Arena itself.

Thunder had revealed that many past Heroes had donned the title _King_, and that their spirits would cling to what they felt to be the place of their greatest accomplishments. What he had _not_ mentioned was that none of those spirits would be very willing to leave.

The two found their quest hindered by creatures Houle had only seen depicted in history books. An earth troll, a rock troll… A few of what could only have been the Summoners that Scythe had warned them about… And a number of Minions that closely resembled those who had once served under Jack of Blades himself.

Paladin redoubled the magic shielding Houle's body and pointed the copper-haired youth toward the Minions while he himself took hold of the _Avo's Tear_ and went for the trolls and Summoners. Houle very quickly discovered that the Minions were not as formidable as the legends would have one believe - once again, due to minstrels' misinformation. It only took a few well-placed strikes before they crumbled apart and fell to the ground. They weren't very intelligent, either. Houle fell into a pattern of precise movements, felling one Minion after another and keeping his guard up for the next one. Every twenty minutes or so, his world would flash in blue as from across the fighting grounds Paladin would renew his protective spells.

The number of Minions had eventually depleted, and Houle had turned in Paladin's direction with the intention of aiding the white-haired Hero in destroying the last of the Summoners, but then there came an all-too-familiar howling which rang in his ears and froze the blood in his veins. A Balverine. Houle leapt out of the way of an attack from behind, rolling along the ground. Swiftly regaining his feet, he threw up his knives to block the claws that came slicing down toward him from above and found himself face-to-face with the snarling monster.

Even the best-quality weapons eventually yielded under too much strain. The Minions had not been invulnerable, but their hides had been as hollowed stone. And Houle had felled one after another, with very little pause in between. As this overly large Balverine leaned over him, snarling, the blades of his knives groaned and even cracked under its weight.

Memories of the Northern forests flashed across his eyes, and suddenly all of Houle's fear drained out of him. He threw his arms wide to knock the Balverine off-balance, but it recovered quickly and swung a clawed arm toward his chest. Houle's reaction was instinctive; he threw up the knives a second time to defend himself. Yet it did little good. The blade of one was snapped clean in half and thrown far from his reach.

Houle fought best with a knife in _both_ hands. When fighting with two knives, it was fairly routine to keep one close for defense while the other was put out there to attack. And when skilled, one could alter which hand played which role in the midst of battle. It was a tactic in which Houle had been well versed. With the loss of one, his efficiency dwindled considerably. But he was not defenseless.

When the Balverine tried to move in again, he lifted his leg and kicked the beast away from him. Before the poor devil could react, Houle flung his one good knife with perfect aim, its blade lodging into the side of the Balverine's throat. It fell to the ground with a terrible, high-pitched screech, writhing as it tried to get ahold of the source of its pain and be rid of it. Houle did not give it the chance. With all the speed he could muster, he threw himself to the side, rolling along the ground and snatching up his other knife as he pushed to his feet. He then turned and without a second thought fisted the knife in both hands and thrust its broken blade deep into the Balverine's heart.

The adrenaline of battle abruptly died as he fell to his knees in the dirt, and he dared not look upon the bloody mess of what he had done lest he find himself suddenly sick to the stomach. From somewhere across the grounds, he could hear a soft moaning, and surmised that the white-haired Hero had found a soul willing to part with the Arena. Another minute or so passed, and he felt a gentle hand fall to his shoulder.

He looked up. Paladin's bright blue eyes held much concern. Houle shook his head, offering a shaky smile. "I'll be all right, but… I think I'll need another set of knives."

The Hero nodded, pulling the redhead's trembling form into his embrace and using his magic to cast them away from the Arena.

~o~

The Guildmaster seemed taken aback by their return, but not all that surprised to see their clasped hands. When the elderly man's eyes caught and briefly held Houle's gaze, the copper-haired youth recalled again the plea of warning that had sent him on his way. And he wondered what else the head of the Heroes' Guild had predicted about them.

Paladin bowed his head in greeting, and then led Houle through the Guild's courtyard toward the training rings. Just as they neared what Houle suspected was a ring meant for Will training, he saw something he had not noticed when last they had been here.

A blue chest.

This one had the number **20** branded atop its lid. The exact number of silver keys the white-haired Hero now possessed, as a result of the one Houle had discovered in Hook Coast. Houle watched, wondering, as Paladin took out his ring of keys and began placing each into a corresponding padlock along the chest's rim.

But he was one key short.

"Your other pocket," Houle suddenly remembered. "After that blast to the lighthouse…"

The Hero nodded, quickly locating the last key and slipping it into the final lock. Once each lock held a key, they each snapped open and fell to the ground, dissolving into nothing and leaving the twenty silver keys behind. Paladin took up each and returned all twenty to their ring, tucking them away again within a fold of his robes before shifting forth to prise the lid.

The Hero reached into the chest, and Houle stared as its treasure was passed to him. It was, unbelievably, a pair of knives. Their blades were of gleaming silver, veined with thin streams of gold, and their dark yellow leather grips fit perfectly into Houle's fists.**(8)** There seemed to be ancient runes carved along the spine of each blade: _M… U… R…_

"Murren," Houle gasped aloud, quickly glancing up. "Last of the Old Masters…"

The Hero nodded, motioning encouragingly. Always unable to refuse his friend's kind heart, Houle hesitantly slipped the legendary knives into the sheaths of his belt. "But," he wondered, "how did you know they would be here?"

"He was quite the student as a child," the Guildmaster revealed as he approached them. "When he was not training, he was busy studying old books in our library. It does not surprise me that he would have come across such information," the elderly man added with a smile. "He always did have a keen mind for ancient clues and the like."

Houle turned curiously to his friend, and Paladin gave a small smile in return.

~o~

Briar Rose's expression held the beginnings of respect when Houle returned virtually unharmed by Paladin's side. For once, she did not look disapproving of his involvement with the all-important quest. They watched as the white-haired Hero held forth Jack's Mask and fed the first soul into one of the stones.

"The next one we'll need," Briar announced when he had done, "will be the soul of the 'Heroine'. I'm sorry to have to say this, Hero, but the best example that leaps to mind is Scarlet Robe." She sighed, "I won't blame you, though, if you come back with the soul of a less famous heroine."

Houle could not understand why her tone had suddenly sounded much kinder than usual. He let his mind work through his memory of old history lessons, and recalled that Scarlet Robe had been a woman of legend on Witchwood Isle. There had even been a statue erected in her likeness in Knothole Glade, and for damn good reason. She alone had slaughtered over thirty Balverines, spilling so much blood it had stained her dress, earning her that heroic nickname.

But why…?

Briar must have glimpsed his confused look, for she patiently explained. "Scarlet Robe was our dear friend's mother."

~o~

It seemed, before he had become the legendary Paladin, the white-haired Hero's first home was in Oakvale. Houle knew a strange feeling in his heart. When his family had been murdered, and he had been taken by those bandits, he had not expected to see this small coastal village again. But after journeying so long at Paladin's side, returning here did not give him the elated feeling of homecoming one might have thought. His family was gone, the bandits had burned down his home… And, for some unknown reason, the other villagers had never found Houle interesting enough to make friends with.

He followed the white-haired Hero to the village cemetery, quietly pleading to wait outside the cemetery walls for a chance to straighten out his head after the fight at the Arena. Paladin gave him a look of much understanding, briefly kissing the redhead's brow before leaving him there.

Houle let out a heavy sigh, falling back against the stone wall and sliding down until he sat upon the grass. Folding his arms atop his upraised knees, he dropped his head to them as he waited and closed his eyes. Some minutes or as much as an hour later, his world tipped from under him. Realizing he had fallen asleep, Houle blinked his eyes open to find himself gently held against Paladin's chest as the Hero carried him along the road and across a bridge.

His next coherent moment was awakening in a soft bed set near the wall of a small home offering the feel of simple comfort. His Fire garments had at some point been removed without his knowing, so that he had been resting in his underclothes. Paladin was standing before a glowing hearth, his back turned, watching the flames. He had shed some of his thicker Will robes, wearing only a modest white shirt and cotton slacks, and his feet were bare. He looked so utterly human. Houle softly called out, and when the Hero slowly turned about, the redhead gasped at the sight of tears in those bright blue eyes. The favored servant of Avo was not above mourning for the soul of his mother…

Paladin crossed the small room, carefully lowering himself upon the bed so that he stretched out over the length of Houle's body with the blankets pinned between them. Leaning on his elbows, the Hero gently touched the caramel-skinned youth's mouth with his own. It was a careful kiss, more hesitant than their first, as though Paladin had somehow discovered doubt within himself. Houle tugged an arm free of the covers to tunnel his fingers through the Hero's silken white strands, wishing he for once could be strong for the both of them.

When at last they pulled away, the Hero's eyes searched deeply into Houle's own. And then Paladin's lips were moving in a whisper. "Will you hear me?"

Heart leaping, Houle wordlessly nodded his head.

"You have become dear to me," was the other's soft confession. "And I cannot bear to lose anyone else so close to my heart." He lightly placed his palm over Houle's mouth when the other would argue, "I know of your strength. I have witnessed your will to survive. But this world depends greatly upon my victory, and I have fought for it too often. I… grow weary," he sighed. "I begin to fear my hands would cease their conjuring in the midst of battle."

The redhead pulled the fingers from over his mouth. "Paladin…"

"I do not ask this lightly. Remain here. Give me new cause to fight once more. For I believe now that with you awaiting my return, Jack himself cannot hinder my efforts to come back to you."

Houle bit his lower lip, not liking the request but understanding the strong sense of need behind it. Searching those bright blue eyes, he felt the burning sting of sudden tears as he voiced a request of his own. "I can't let you go alone," he softly pleaded. "You've still one more soul to gather. Mightn't I come with you on your search for that one, and then wait for you in Snowspire?"

Shared sorrow painted across the Hero's face, but Paladin shook his head. "I know that when the moment comes, my resolve will weaken. I ask this of you, now, while there is still strength enough in my heart to assure myself of your safety."

The first tears escaped his dark green eyes, and Houle knew defeat. "But how can I be assured of yours?" He whispered.

Something flashed within those bright blue orbs, and Paladin glanced across the room. Reaching with one arm, he summoned into his palm that bronze circular plate that was the mark of any Hero. His Guild Seal. Sitting back on his knees, he ignited his other hand with his Will. With a glowing index finger, he lightly traced around one of its small emerald orbs until the gem popped free and fell into his palm. Houle stared, pushing himself up on his elbows. "What have you done?"

Paladin calmly set the Seal aside, "Do not fear. Its power has not been interrupted."

"But…"

Yet the white-haired Hero was not done. Eyes closing, he fisted the freed gem in his still-glowing hand, murmuring an incantation Houle could not hope to translate. Finally, those bright blue eyes opened once more. And Paladin tipped his fist over, moving his fingers only slightly so that the emerald orb slipped free -

"Pala…!"

- and hung there, clinging to a gleaming silver chain.

"…din." Houle's dark green eyes widened, knowing what they saw before his mind finally caught on. And then they burned with tears anew. "Won't it be blasphemy? Sacrilege?"

"Do you worship Skorm?" Paladin asked as seriously.

"Never."

The Hero gave a small smile, looping the chain over Houle's head so that the gem fell against the center of the redhead's chest. "A Hero's faith is unfalteringly revealed by his Seal. Darkest ruby for the disciples of Skorm. Purest emerald, for the followers of Avo."

"But… why do you give me this?"

"Every Seal bears two stones," Paladin patiently explained. "That one will not soon forget its twin. While you wear it, you will know as soon as it does whether the other comes to harm." Bright blue meeting dark green, he solemnly added, "You will _know_, how I fair after I've gone."

Houle lifted a hand to carefully fist the gem at his chest, and he glanced away. Barely one month before, he had feared for his life. Now, it was another's life about to be placed in unfathomable peril. Paladin, who unquestioningly prepared for a rematch against the greatest evil Albion had ever known. It clawed within Houle's heart to know that this tremendous effort was for a world that barely knew the man behind the legend.

"I can't let you go," he whispered again. "I can't lose you…"

Paladin made a soft sound in his throat, reaching with one hand to cup Houle's jaw and gently urge the copper-haired youth to meet his gaze. His bright blue eyes held much compassion, and a deeper emotion yet unlabeled. "_Why_ can't you lose me?"

Houle swallowed, "I…"

"Tell me," the Hero softly pleaded. "Tell me. Why can't you lose me?"

"Because-" Heart racing, he took a breath and gave the only reply he could. "I-I _can't_ lose you, because… I think I love you…"

Something flashed in those bright blue eyes, and Paladin gave a soft and wondering smile. "I think I love you, too." And he shifted forward, bringing their mouths together in a careful yet warm kiss.

Houle's heart reacted immediately, flooding with more emotion than he knew what to do with, and he closed his eyes under the intensity of it all. The tears that had clung there at last spilled down his cheeks, and he lifted his other hand to catch the back of Paladin's neck and urge him closer. He fell slowly back against his pillow and, because he would not release his hold on the Hero's neck, Paladin carefully followed after. Shifting so that one elbow took his weight, he slowly slid his other hand down the center of Houle's shirt. The hem of which had already crawled above his navel, and so it was not long before Houle arched his back with a hiss for breath.

The white-haired Hero briefly broke their kiss, lifting his head with a fierce question in his eyes.

Houle bit his lip, knowing what he was about to request. "Please… Paladin… Give me one night to remember…"

After a moment the other drew in a deep, audibly shaky breath and nodded. Head lowering, he swept his lips across the redhead's before gently crushing their mouths together once more. The outside world was abandoned. Fear was pushed aside. Tears were exchanged. On either side of the pillow, hands searched and then joined together like drops of water.

~o~

His bright blue eyes blinked open with the wakening of the dawn. Like a white entity playing among shadows, he dressed quickly and gathered a few items he had long stowed away. At the door, he paused. He turned his head, his gaze drawn toward a corner of the room. His heart swelled painfully, so that every fiber of his being echoed with the ache. He softly closed the door behind him.

~o~

Light from the early sun poured across Houle's face, whispering him awake. Despite his body's hum of pleasant completion, the redhead knew in his heart that something was amiss. Without opening his eyes, he lifted a hand and fisted the emerald bauble resting against his chest. He did not halt his tears, silently weeping himself back into what would be a fitful sleep.

8) As some of you know, this blue chest held Murren's Greathammer. But I thought it only fair to give Houle a nice reward for his triumph in the Arena.


	7. Forgotten

**Title:** Mourned Innocence

**By:** Aina Song

**Fandom(s):** Fable: The Lost Chapters

**Genre:** Yaoi

**Rating:** PG-15

**Warning(s):** Mild Language; Direct Quotes; Altered Scenes

**Pairing(s):** Hero x OC

**Reviews:** Yes, please.

**Author's Note:** Standard Disclaimer. This story was not written for money.

**Teaser:** Unto the pure of heart are all things pure…

**Chapter Seven - Forgotten…**

The Oakvale villagers knew immediately that there was something different about Houle Cheshire. The burning of his family's home and his disappearance were still common talk within the tavern. Many of the guesses as to what had happened had swiftly died, until there was only the conclusion that bandits had been responsible. When he had returned, with the most legendary of Heroes, it had been accepted by all as confirmation of their gossip.

Yet as he came walking along one of the main roads the next midday, he was wholly separate from the Houle they had once known. He carried newly-birthed strength in his posture, and his every step seemed filled with a quiet confidence that had not been there before. He wore plain villager's clothing that appeared to have been borrowed somewhere, and from a belt around his waist hung two knives of far better quality than anything found in Oakvale's weaponry shop.

But as he entered the tavern to ask of its owner for a meager supply of produce, there was still that soft quality in his voice. And his eyes, so strangely green, seemed to have clouded over with some secret despair.

The other villagers, fearing he must now be living alone, offered what they could throughout that day and the next. But always he would turn them away, though he never failed to express his quiet gratitude for such a show of generosity. On the third day, he requested and received a position among the village guards, providing all with proof that he would work for what he was given and that he was capable enough to defend his hometown at the same time.

Midway through the next week, however, he surprised them all. It had been his turn to carry out a watch in the Barrow Fields, popular for trading fairs. He had chased off a few children that had been teasing the local Demon Door, and was just returning to the fairground when he suddenly gave a shout and fell to his knees. All activity halted; every pair of eyes silently turned his way. A thin silver chain slipped free of his collar, dangling a small green gem that seemed to catch the sun on its surface and reflect that light at thrice its brilliance.

~o~

Houle lowered his head, closing his eyes against the tears that threatened to spill. His hand sought and grasped around the emerald Paladin had gifted him. It both burned and froze against his skin, and pain unlike any he knew flooded into him with the force of a crashing wave. His heart broke, just as he felt within the circle of his fingers a thin crack slowly tainting the bauble's surface. He knew, without clearly understanding how, that the quest had finally ended. And he was feeling merely the echo of a greater pain that one other must now be suffering as payment for the victory.

The crack across the emerald's surface grew longer, prying itself just a fraction wider open. And in Houle's mind he heard the impossible whispering of voices that were not his own.

_The battle is not over yet,_ came the first voice, which Houle recognized to be Scythe. _The mask must be destroyed. Whatever you do, you must not wear it._

But then argued a second voice, which was in likeness to the hissing of some venomous snake. Its presence sent a dark chill along Houle's spine. _Wear me… wear me… and gods will envy your power…_

_Can you hear me?_ Scythe's voice demanded, growing weaker against the strength of the other. _It is vital that you cast the mask away!_

_Wear me… and the world will bow at your feet…_

"No," Houle whispered aloud, tears scalding in his eyes before they escaped down the sides of his face. "Please."

_Listen to me!_ Scythe's voice very weakly tried once more, _Destroy the Mask! Now!_

And the hissing of the second voice grew even stronger, so that it nearly consumed perception of anything outside its influence. _Wear me… and you shall be… immortal…_

Houle's heart tore, and the bauble in his hand shattered, cutting off the echo of pain and the battling voices. "No!" He screamed, "You can't! That's not who you are!" Sobbing, feeling utterly alone, he curled his arms about his stomach and pleaded until his voice was hoarse; "Please… don't give in to it… Please…"

He did not see that every villager of Oakvale was staring at him with a mix of confusion and concern. He did not hear their whispered murmurings suddenly become shouts of alarm and of guards ordering people back. Only the fear of loss echoed after his heartbeat; only the ache bleeding into his soul was real. He wished desperately for the hope of yesterday, for the worries that had been as yet unconfirmed.

Not knowing had been a more tolerable nightmare.

"Please," he whispered one more time. "Don't cast me aside…"

"Stop," another voice answered brokenly. "I cannot bear to watch you cry."

Heart missing several beats at once, Houle swallowed another sob and lifted his head. Kneeling before him, robes torn and drenched in areas with blood, the most legendary of Heroes offered a gentle smile through his own tears. Houle took a trembling breath, fearing a hallucination. "You came back…?"

Paladin brought a hand to the redhead's cheek, smile softening even more when Houle instinctively reacted to the touch. He lifted his other arm away from his side in invitation, and Houle shifted forth into the Hero's embrace, clinging tightly lest it still be a dream. "I heard," he eventually confessed. "I heard the Mask…"

"I know." Paladin drew back and let his fingers tunnel the dark red strands of Houle's hair. His thumbs swept the tears from Houle's eyes. "And I heard _you_. You called to me. You pulled me back."

Houle nodded, biting back the sting of new tears.

"I would have been lost to the Mask, if not for you." The Hero brought one hand away from the redhead's hair, instead lightly brushing its fingers along Houle's lips. Bright blue eyes held dark green. "How can I be grateful to those bandits for stealing you away? How can I overlook what they tore from you - your home, your family?" Sighing, he lowered his fingers and glanced aside. "Simply because they had given me you. Does one such blessing truly outweigh their sins in Avo's eyes?"

"I miss my family, I don't deny it," Houle softly confessed. He loosely fisted the front of Paladin's robes, drawing the Hero's attention back upon himself. "But Avo himself would not condemn you for coming to me."

"Houle…" Paladin caught one of the redhead's fists in his own, interlocking their fingers together. "The more faith you have in me, the more I begin to believe myself unworthy of you."

The caramel-skinned youth responded with a small smile, one last tear escaping his forbiddance. "I've mirrored that thought several times since we met, but it was myself feeling unworthy of _you_. But I don't want to feel that way, anymore." He took a breath, "Can you… Can you help me to convince myself otherwise?"

Understanding filled those bright blue eyes, and Paladin gently kissed him. "Only if you promise to do the same for me…"

Their mouths melded together once more, and each pulled the other closer, not wishing to let the moment die. Their forgotten audience, the Oakvale villagers, bore witness and let out a tremendous cheer for them both.

And so the Hero married. And for one day, at least, all the troubles of the world were forgotten…

**The End**


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